


Chasing the Cosmos

by BladedDarkness



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Robin Hood breathes, apparently that needs to be a warning, because I forgot this place doesn't have genre tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BladedDarkness/pseuds/BladedDarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It's Regina,” Snow blurts out before Emma can even sigh or get her bearings to evaluate the level of awake she needs to be, but Regina's a nine on her crisis meter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The pounding on the door wakes her. She's been dozing when she can, trying to make up for sleepless nights on witch hunting duty and night shifts patrolling as sheriff afterward and 'doesn't her baby brother ever shut up?' nights before she found her own apartment that she kinda shares with the kid when he's not over at his mom's – and he's there a lot – so mostly sleepless nights where she's suddenly not used to being alone in an apartment and everything is too quiet because this is Storybrooke and not New York and Henry is not snoring away in the next room with too-thin walls between them.

 

So she's not in the greatest of moods when she pulls open the door and a frantic Snow is on the other side and she feels the weight of another impending disaster crushing on her chest.

 

“It's Regina,” Snow blurts out before Emma can even sigh or get her bearings to evaluate the level of awake she needs to be, but Regina's a nine on her crisis meter – whether perpetrator, victim, or bystander – and her mind whispers of promises of protection and vows made to herself that her son will not end up motherless because she's “Emma” and not “Mom” once more and maybe one day false memories that guided her for a year won't count as a cheat sheet to motherhood for a son that's finally learned the truth about redemption and shades of grey and the two sides of every story.

 

So she's in the process of grabbing her gun and badge and _sword_ when Snow pushes her back into the apartment and locks the door behind her, glancing about cautiously and Emma's brain finally remembers that 'oh yeah, Regina is pissed at me'.

 

“It's two in the morning, Snow,” Emma retorts, because Snow isn't pushing her out the door so there's probably not someone – Regina, specifically – that she needs to save right this second, which means it could wait until the reasonable hour of much much later in the day.

 

“I know, but I was out with Red and she said that - ” Emma tunes out because her mom has a new kid at home and shouldn't she be there instead of out with Ruby so late. She flops onto the couch only to shoot Snow an incredulous look a second later.

 

“Wait what?!”

 

“Weren't you listening?” Snow rolls her eyes. “Regina's pregnant.”

 

 

Which doesn't explain how Emma was elected to be the one to actually talk to Regina about it. Emma is perfectly fine to let Regina figure it out on her own, without pushing her to go see Whale or pick up a pregnancy test at the pharmacy. Because let's face it, Whale would be the less germ-infested option, but there's still some animosity there because hearts and dead loved ones.

 

And maybe Emma's not perfectly fine with any of this situation, because y'know, Regina's _pregnant_ , and Emma just happened to bring back the dead wife of what is probably Regina's _baby daddy_ , and thinking about it in any variety of terms just isn't dissuading the indigestion Emma is feeling. Or heartburn. Or heart-something that feels a little like a broken heart or a little like heartache but is definitely not those things. At all.

 

So Emma delays and fiddles around with sheriff things for the next few days and tries not to think about how yet another sheriff seems to be required by fate to try to solve messes created by a thief. And as a former thief, particularly a previously pregnant former thief, Emma should have an idea how to handle this. Except she doesn't, because everyone but Emma and Regina seem to be forgetting that Regina is currently pissed at her.

 

And it hurts even more than seeing a rage-filled Regina back in time in the Enchanted Forest, because present Regina wears her hurt where Emma can see it much more easily, even if she's hurting just as much as the Evil Queen was. And it was a stupid idea to save the woman's life, but she wanted to play hero too much and wanted to ease the burden of at least one of Regina's crimes, and this one seemed like a safe one that wouldn't accidentally erase their son from the annals of history.

 

It just also coincidentally happened to destroy a predestined soul bond and Regina's happiness.

 

So she mopes about on the front porch of Regina's mansion for a few minutes, fumbling with her hands (and the double-bagged pregnancy test she picked up because okay, she wants to be supportive and supportive friends buy friends pregnancy tests, right?) and trying to figure out how to convince Regina to let Emma in, literally and metaphorically, and okay, a baby really shouldn't be the business of the entire town, but Snow and Ruby seem concerned and just want to help and Emma needs to at least make sure Regina isn't drinking herself into a miscarriage before she even knows. Because jail isn't an option to save this baby's life like it was Henry's.

 

So Emma bites the bullet and pushes the doorbell.

 

It doesn't go well and Emma can't remember exactly what is said but even though there's a bunch of yelling that Emma can't recall later, she's inside and Regina is taking the bag and stomping off.

 

There's a lot of Emma pacing around Regina's study like a father pacing the waiting room, or perhaps an estranged relative because that's what she technically is and doesn't the father usually hold the mother's hand? When they're together, anyway?

 

But then Regina marches in and shoves the stick in her face and okay, that's a little weird, but she pushes it – and the stick – aside and lets Regina cry and mutters some reassuring-sounding promises that must work because Regina is giving her _that_ look again and Emma almost feels relieved that she's not on the mayor's shit list again.

 

 

Except apparently she still is because it's six months later and she's basically moved in with Regina and Henry (but not really because the guest room has been turned into a nursery and Henry has grown into having this _thing_ about both his mothers around for bedtime that makes him crinkle his nose and sigh a lot) and it's better than she could have ever imagined but also worse because apparently Regina's newly decided method of punishment is to turn Emma into her go-to person that does everything Regina needs and run Emma ragged.

 

Emma brings her a jar of pickles one day and Regina doesn't snap at her like she has been doing, or dismiss her, but gives her that look that settles Emma's indigestion – the kind that flares up when she thinks about how Regina got pregnant, or how Henry's family tree is going to look even more ridiculous because it's running out of branches for famous fairy tales and myths. Instead her indigestion morphs into this warm fuzzy butterfly feeling and her heart pounds a little faster and Emma does something stupid.

 

She kisses her.

 

She kisses Regina and for a split second everything feels wonderful, like the moment they made an eclipse and it was just the two of them, moving objects so much larger than themselves just to get what they want, like they've forged a deeper bond in trying to reclaim the thing that ties them together in the first place. It's soft, and Regina's soft, and Emma puts every ounce of caring that she's never said in more than looks and not-touches and protective action into that kiss.

 

And then Regina is pulling away and pushing Emma back, and the moon snaps back into its proper place and her hands are so rough against Emma's shoulders, so forceful.

 

“What _was_ that?” Regina demands, and Emma feels a moment of hope that Regina felt what Emma felt when their lips met, but then the tone registers.

 

“I just, I mean,” she sets the pickles on the counter, “did you not like it?”

 

“It's not the kiss, it's you,” Regina replies making a dismissive motion with her hand before pausing as if she's just realizing how _that_ sounds.

 

“Okay.” And Emma knows her voice is too soft, so she clears her throat and repeats, “Okay.” She unpacks the rest of the groceries.

 

There's a too long, strained pause when she folds the last bag before Regina pushes herself up from her chair.

 

“I should start cooking dinner. Henry's a growing boy and this little one likes to eat just as much.” The way Regina holds herself, as if she's carrying something precious, soothes a little of the pain from her words.

 

But only a small amount, so Emma just nods and takes the not-too-subtle hint and leaves.

 

Later she contemplates drinking away the press of too many moments spent wishing, hoping, desiring, moments stolen and snatched in between calamities and bad timing, moments where she comforted herself with the way Regina would just _be_ , and moments where she had resigned herself to the outcome she experienced earlier. But she'd allowed herself to want and think that Regina could too, and those moments are collapsing like a black hole and how funny is it that it always comes back to things that are bigger than them because they just don't do anything small, do they?

 

So she puts away the whiskey because of what ifs where she needs to be sober.


	2. Chapter 2

Regina is nearly seven months along when Robin shows up one morning.

 

Emma crinkles her nose and tries to ignore him, having just barely settled back into her usual role after that fiasco a few weeks ago, the one she and Regina have been steadfastly ignoring and resolutely non-verbally agreed not to talk about.

 

It stings just a little bit, like an echo of Regina's words from that night, but Emma shoves it deep down inside, biting the inside of her cheek until it aches just the same.

 

Robin disregards her presence entirely and focuses immediately on Regina and her stomach, almost as if he is stunned, and Emma wonders why the population of the woods seems to be so far removed from the gossip of the seaside town. They're murmuring in low voices and when she can't stand to watch out of the corner of her eye anymore, Emma heads upstairs to drag Henry down.

 

She finally manages to rouse him enough to brave stumbling downstairs in his half-asleep state just in time to be greeted by Regina's bright smile, but of course it's not directed at her, or even Henry for once. Robin is holding her hand loosely and standing just barely far back enough to be decent in a way that probably won't get him in trouble with his wife, maybe.

 

It bothers Emma, the way Regina's hand fits so elegantly with Robin's, as if they need just a tiny shove to _click_ together. She looks away because the image makes the back of her eyes throb, little pinpricks of pain that she can hardly feel against the ache in her mouth, and her heartburn is back again.

 

Regina has always looked at Henry like he is her sun, but she looks at Robin as if he might be another part of her universe. Emma curls her shoulders inward as they walk by, compressing herself against Henry's side, as if a little bit of his light will rub off on her and Regina will  _see_ .

 

Henry is already scarfing down eggs as Regina walks Robin to the door, only looking up when she stands in the entryway to the dining room. If Emma pulls her head up from her mug slowly it's only because it's a damn fine cup of coffee.

 

“Robin and Marian are separating.”

 

Emma bites back a curse and tries to soothe her burned tongue. “Seriously? Now?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Her ire spikes, loosening her speech. “And he couldn't leave his wife six or seven months ago _why_?”

 

The disapproval radiates off Regina, oppressive and heavy. “Marian decided that their marriage was not recovering and that it was best that they pursue their lives separately.”

 

Emma hates it. She didn't notice before Ruby pointed it out a few days ago, but Regina's scent has gradually shifted over the months of her pregnancy. Cloves had given way to wintergreen with a hint of pine as her body changed. Emma grunts. “Good for Marian.” She doesn't ask about Robin, or what that means for Regina and the baby, and Regina doesn't elaborate.

 

Emma doesn't want to know how soon she is going to be replaced entirely (or perhaps she was the replacement all along).

 

She carries on as she has been for the last few months, just a bit more sulkily. Robin seemingly turns up around every corner and Emma clenches her jaw. He starts taking over the duty of bringing Regina's groceries in, and Roland looks at Henry (and his storybook) with a starry-eyed look whenever he is around, time split between Robin and reconnecting with his mother.

 

The final straw is when Snow appoints Robin as deputy. Her and David have been managing just fine by themselves. Even Regina had found no fault with the father-daughter duo manning the station.

 

“He needs a way to support his family, Emma,” Snow tries to rationalize.

 

“They managed just fine living in the woods before and having a tab at Granny's.”

 

“I'm not talking about Marian and Roland. I'm talking about Regina and Hen–”

 

“THEY ARE MY FAMILY!” Emma spats out, choking on the great gulp of air she takes. She shudders, and Snow's eyes widen at the low tone that comes out next, “Mine. Henry and Regina are my family. Not his.”

 

“But the baby is,” Snow shoots back, and Emma storms out, because oh how she wants and wishes for that which is just out of reach once again.

 

She would claim this child in a second if Regina would let her.

 

 


End file.
